Lord Jaime Lannister
I promised to give you the names of those who murdered your son, Joffrey. Only two people were involved, the rest were innocent bystanders who were unaware of the plot. The ones responsible were Lord Petyr Baelish, and Lady Olenna Tyrell.
I have organised assassins to follow Lord Baelish to Essos. He will reap what he has sown and will bother you no more. It is up to you to deal with Lady Olenna.
Yours
No One
Arya rolled up the letter and sealed it with a dark green wax. She tied it around the leg of the last raven given to her by Bran.
"Ensure Jaime Lannister gets this in person, nobody else can see it."
"Jaime," the raven quorked.
Arya held her hand out. The raven picked at the pieces of corn and flew off on his mission. She watched the raven fly off into the distance, as the sea air blew in from behind her. Despite the breeze, the sun was shining, and it was warm. Littlefinger's face itched. Arya was desperate to take it off, but it would have to wait. For she had another meeting before she sailed for Braavos.
Bronze Yohn Royce was waiting for Arya outside Littlefinger's solar in Baelish's Keep. Bronze Yohn was a proud and formidable man As tall as Sandor Clegane, with a booming and authoritative voice to match. His face was etched with lines, framed by grey hair and dominated by slate-grey eyes beneath bushy eyebrows.
"Lord Royce," Arya nodded, gesturing with her hand for him to enter the solar. She closed the door behind them. "Please sit," Arya took what was Littlefinger's chair, whilst Lord Royce sat opposite her.
The solar was smaller than one would expect from someone as powerful as Littlefinger, although she knew it was because the house was a minor one, and the keep was not very large. Books lined one wall, which was the closest the keep had to a library. Other than that, the walls were bare stone. Not a single tapestry in sight.
There was a window facing the sea, which would brighten the room in the morning, but as soon as the day progressed and the sun drifted westwards, the room was dark, cold, and required candles to see any ledgers.
Opposite the window was the hearth, which was now down to embers, as Arya would soon be leaving. Stood in the middle of the room was a heavy oaken desk. On one side, there was a matching chair, with a heavy back and arms. On the opposite side, were two chairs. Simple in design, and doubtless, uncomfortable to sit on. Arya suspected this was done to ensure meetings did not last longer than necessary.
"My Lord Baelish," Lord Royce nodded.
"How can I help you, Lord Royce?" Arya asked.
There was no love lost between Lord Royce and Littlefinger, therefore Arya knew this was going to be a prickly conversation, even if she agreed with every word the Lord of Runestone said.
"I hear rumours to be wed to Lady Lysa," Royce huffed.
Arya rounded the desk and sat. She pressed her lips together in a self-satisfied smile. "On behalf of King Tommen, Lord Tywin has arranged the match. I came here to tell my betrothed in person. She was most pleased. It is seldom a love-match and political match are of the same ilk."
"Hm," Lord Royce huffed. It was clear he was displeased with this situation. "And what about Lord Robert?"
"Lady Lysa and I will act as regents for Lord Arryn, until he comes of age," Arya lied. "I have a great fondness for my future stepson, and he needs much protection. His health is somewhat delicate, don't you agree?"
"That it is," Royce agreed. "When will the wedding take place?"
"I am to sail for Braavos in a few hours," Arya told him. "I have a meeting with the Iron Bank, and a few other matters to attend to. In fact, I am glad you are here, it will save me sending out some ravens. I think you can be of some use."
Yohn Royce narrowed his bushy eyebrows. "Why would I help you? You are not my Lord… yet."
"I'm sure you are aware of the rumours surrounding Cersei Lannister's children."
"That I have," Lord Royce took in a deep breath and puffed out his chest. "Of course, it is treason to speak of such things."
"Why? The Lannisters did not win by right of conquest. They are not Baratheons, therefore they have no right to sit upon the Iron Throne."
"What do you propose? Putting the Dragon Queen on the Iron Throne? How do we know if she is as mad as her father? It is concern, especially if the rumours are true surrounding her having three dragons."
Arya smiled and shook her head. "The claims of dragons is true, Lord Royce," Arya told him.
"Seven hells," Lord Royce gave Littlefinger a look of terror.
Arya decided to ignore the fear in Royce's eyes. "Although Daenerys Targaryen has a greater claim than King Tommen. One could argue the Princess Shireen has a greater claim than Daenerys. However, we both know that no Lord of the Seven Kingdoms would support her claim. Especially as she has conceded it to another."
"Another?" Royce asked.
"One with a greater claim than Daenerys Targaryen herself."
"The only Targaryens who had a greater claim than her are dead."
"Not all of them," Arya smirked. "Robert Baratheon missed one, or wasn't aware of his existence."
Lord Royce shook his head. "You can't trust a Targaryen."
"A Targaryen who has the support of the Starks, the Riverlands, the full North, the Stormlands, and Dorne."
"I very much doubt Ned Stark would support a Targaryen. Not after what happened to his family," Royce shook his head. "It would be a disgrace for him to do so. To go against his best friend in favour of a Targaryen. Highly unlikely, if you ask me."
"Lord Stark wasn't happy with what happened to the Targaryen children. He felt it was a stain on the rebellion," Arya said. "Lord Stark would never condone the murder of innocents. He would do everything in his power to protect them."
"Protecting them is one thing, putting a Targaryen on the Iron Throne is another."
"Lord Stark raised the child himself. The boy has grown up with Stark values. He is a northerner through and through," Arya told him.
"And who is this boy?" Royce asked.
"After Robert's Rebellion, Lord Stark set out to find his sister. He found her in a tower in the Red Mountains, guarded by three Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, and Ser Arthur Dayne," Arya started.
"Lord Baelish, this is old news," Royce huffed.
"Ah, old news with new information," Arya smiled. "As we all know, Lady Lyanna tragically died, although Lord Stark was rather reticent to say what was the cause of her death," that was the moment she saw it dawn upon him what Arya was telling him.
"Are you saying the lad is also a Stark?" Lord Royce was already appearing a touch more amenable to the tale.
"The honourable Ned Stark lied to the Seven Kingdoms, his best friend, his wife, and the boy in question for nigh on sixteen years. The boy was destined for the wall, but Lord Arryn confided in Lord Stark before he died. After that, Lord Stark plotted to put his nephew on the Iron Throne."
"Is it the one he pretended was his own bastard and then that of his brother?" Lord Royce asked. Arya nodded her head. "Why did he pretend the lad was Brandon's bastard?"
"Lord Stark needed to wed his daughter to Prince Aegon. He couldn't reveal his reasons, hence he pretended Aegon was Brandon's boy."
"Isn't the lad a bastard? Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna," Lord Royce said. However, when Arya raised an eyebrow, Lord Royce must have realised there was more to the story than the official version.
"Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar. I saw it with my own eyes," Arya lied. "The two of them were very much in love. He set aside Elia for Lyanna. They were wed by the High Septon. There is evidence of this. Lord Stark has the documentation. There are copies of both the annulment and the marriage records in the Citadel." Lord Royce was looking stunned by the revelation. "Would you care for a drop of rum? I always keep a bottle handy for when I need something stronger than wine."
Lord Royce nodded. "Thank you, Lord Baelish," he said.
Arya had developed a taste for spiced rum during her travels with Theon, and always had at least one bottle with her. She poured herself two fingers of rum and the same for Lord Royce. She handed it over to him and took a gulp of the spiced amber liquid, which burned her throat and warmed her insides. Lord Royce took a sip and sighed.
"I take it you want the support of the Vale," he surmised, Arya nodded. "What did Lady Arryn have to say?"
"She is perfectly agreeable. After all, her niece is wed to him. It would make her the Queen's aunt.'
"A powerful position," Lord Royce nodded. "You want me to ensure the rest of the Lords do as she asks?"
Arya smiled. "I would prefer the rightful heir to be sat upon the Iron Throne. Daenerys Targaryen is a conqueror. She bases her claim upon being the only Targaryen. If another Targaryen is already seated on the Iron Throne, it will make life difficult for her."
"But she has three dragons," Lord Royce frowned.
"She only rides one. The others are riderless. Prince Aegon may even take one from her," Arya shrugged. She knew in their previous life, Jon had ridden Rhaegal. Mayhap he could ride him in this life.
"Another dance of dragons," Lord Royce sighed. "I never thought I'd live to see the day..."
"Whatever happens, a Targaryen will be seated on the Iron Throne. Which would you prefer? One raised by Ned Stark? Or a foreigner, who understands nothing of Westerosi culture?" Arya asked.
"As much as I respect Lord Stark, if the boy has been raised in the North, what would he know about the south? Has he ever left the North?"
"I know he has travelled to Dragonstone, Kings Landing, and spent time in Gulltown. I got to know him whilst he was in Kings Landing. He appears to be a clever man who puts the needs of the realm above his own."
"Then why does he want the Iron Throne?" Lord Royce asked.
"He doesn't," Arya replied. "However, the realm needs him. He'd be happy running a farm, or being in charge of a holdfast. But he bears the Targaryen name and has the greatest claim to the Iron Throne. He is only doing this because the realm needs him. Should the Lannisters stay in power for much longer, they will bankrupt the realm. Because of him, the North will soon be the wealthiest of the Seven Kingdoms. A benefit to both the Lords and the smallfolk."
Lord Royce looked as though he was deep in thought. Arya knew he didn't trust Targaryens, he'd made that clear in their previous life. She poured out some more rum into his tumbler, and waited for him to consider his options, although he would have to adhere to whatever Lysa instructed him to do.
He took a sip of the refilled rum and nodded. "Are we to march on Kings Landing?" he asked.
Arya smiled. "That is the plan. To march with as little bloodshed as is possible. The more who side with Prince Aegon, the less bloodshed."
"Who is aligned with Prince Aegon?" Lord Royce asked.
"The North, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, and Lady Arryn has agreed to join forces with him. The Greyjoys are caught up in their own dispute, and are unlikely to side with anyone. However, I believe some of the Greyjoys will align with Prince Aegon."
"That leaves Dorne, the Reach, the Westerlands and the Crownlands," Lord Royce sighed. "The Reach and the Westerlands have a lot of money and large armies," he smiled. "Reminds me of Robert's Rebellion. The same players, almost."
Arya laughed. "Ironic isn't it? The very houses who aligned to take down the Targaryen dynasty, are the ones attempting to restore it," she lifted her glass. "To Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name."
Lord Royce did the same. "To Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, long may he reign."
Now that Lord Royce was convinced and supporting the cause, not out of loyalty to the Arryns, but because he wanted to, Arya needed to know the numbers the Vale could bring.
"How many fighting men are at your disposal, Lord Royce?" she asked.
"Around fifty thousand. Half of those are mounted," he replied.
Arya knew men would need to stay behind to protect the Vale, she couldn't ask for all to join the war. After all, the plan was to let the Free Folk guard the North, to allow all fighting men to march south.
"Leave fifteen thousand men behind to protect the Vale," Arya told him. "I shall leave it at your discretion as to how that should be done. The sooner the men join the Starks, the better."
"Where?" Lord Royce asked.
"You will need to send a raven to Winterfell. Tell them of your pledge, with the numbers involved. Prince Aegon will decide what is to be done. Although I suspect the meeting point will be in the Riverlands."
"What of you, Lord Baelish?" Lord Royce asked. "What is in this for you? What has been promised?"
Arya knew she could lie, for soon, Lord Baelish would be dead. Whatever she claimed had been promised, would never materialise. "It depends upon my success," Arya smiled. "The more I help, the more I gain. As it stands, the Lannisters rule the Westerlands. King Aegon will need someone loyal to his cause once the Lannisters are ousted. With myself in charge of the Westerlands, and Lady Arryn in charge of the Vale, we would be a powerful couple. When Lord Arryn reaches an age where he can rule by himself, Lysa will be able to live at Casterly Rock with me."
"You being granted access to the Lannister goldmines, I should have known," Royce said, just as there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," Arya called out. A nervous-looking servant, of about ten and six entered. "Yes?" Arya asked.
"Your ship is ready, my Lord." the lad replied.
Arya nodded to him. "Wait outside," she commanded.
Arya scraped the heavy oak chair along the wooden floor and stood. Lord Royce did the same. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Royce," Arya held her hand out.
Despite the accord they had come to, Lord Royce looked as if he wanted to do anything but shake Littlefinger's hand. Arya couldn't blame him, she'd feel the same if she were in his shoes. However, they had come to an agreement, and regardless how Lord Royce felt, he was a Lord who knew his courtesies. He took Arya's hand and shook it.
"We may not agree on many things, Lord Baelish. But we cannot sit by whilst the Lannisters take control of the Seven Kingdoms, nor can we be idle about the incoming threat of Daenerys Targaryen. Under normal circumstances, I would not trust your word on this matter, but as you say, the boy was raised by Lord Stark. That must mean something of his character. Although if rumours are correct, he has let the wildlings through the wall."
"The North has profited from this ingenious idea of allowing the wildlings south of the wall. They will be the ones to fight for the North when Prince Aegon marches south."
"It doesn't mean I have to like it," Lord Royce huffed. "But that is a problem for Ned Stark. As longs as they don't venture south of the neck, it is not my place to complain."
Arya led Lord Royce over to the door. "If I don't see you before the march south, I wish you good fortune, Lord Royce."
"You too, Lord Baelish," the Lord of Runestone replied. And with that, he left Arya alone in the solar.
Once his footsteps had disappeared, Arya poked her head out of the door. The young lad stood waiting for his orders. "Wait there, I want some items taken to the ship," she said.
"Your chambers have been cleared as you instructed, Lord Baelish," the boy told him.
"Good," Arya said. "I won't be long."
She searched the room for any sign of keys, jewels, money, or anything of value. There were some books, which when she flipped through them, she realised they were information regarding the sex lives of the Lords who used his brothels. Some of the tastes were disgusting.
As much as Arya loathed to blackmail anyone, she knew the information would prove invaluable. Sansa had told her to always know what a man wants. If Arya were to let this information get into the wrong hands, it would cause problems for the Lords involved. She also knew Sansa would want to see it for herself.
Arya collected the three books and left the solar. She turned to the servant. "I have a long journey, I wish to take all of my books," she said.
"Of course, my Lord. I will have them placed in a chest and loaded on the boat within the hour,"
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Arya had been aboard the Mockingbird for six days when the Titan of Braavos came into view. Her stomach dropped. The last time she had sailed to Braavos, was when she joined the House of Black and White. It had been four years since she was last here, and she was nervous. Wearing a face and stealing from the owner, was forbidden by the order. But she wasn't one of them yet. Arya just hoped she didn't see the Waif, for if she did, the girl would be dead.
As the ship moored, Arya noticed a man waiting for her on the dock. He stood tall and gaunt, his narrow face framed by dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing. A small, pointy beard added a sharpness to his austere appearance. Dressed in a brimless three-tiered hat of purple felt, he wore robes of a sober purple trimmed with ermine and a high stiff collar, exuding an air of cold, calculated elegance.
Arya rolled her shoulders back and walked down the gangplank with an air of authority about her. Once she reached the man, she recognised him, for she had seen him many a time during her faceless assassin training.
The man held out his hand. "Lord Baelish. I hope your journey was a pleasant one," the man said.
"The winds were kind to us," Arya smiled. "It is good to see you again, Tycho," she held out her hand, which he shook.
"Come, let me show you to your accommodation, Lord Baelish," Tycho Nestoris replied. "I hope your stay will be most comfortable," he said, leading them away from the docks.
"I'm sure it will be," Arya replied.